


Long You Live and High You Fly

by Talullah



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 22:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: Goldberry has received many visitors and has been glad to lighten their hearts. Will her new guest give her a chance to?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Breathe' by Pink Floyd.
> 
> Written for the Legendarium Ladies April 2017, for the prompts for April 1st.
> 
> General Prompt: Bonds Between Women
> 
> Picture Prompt: [There…](https://www.flickr.com/photos/nguyenthuyha/16319664077) by Jane Ha
> 
> Poetry Prompt: Untitled, by Elizabeth Hewer  
> It’s so very cold here but—you know, we’re burning.  
> Screaming, running, making music. Making music!  
> Sticking our fingers into fire to see how it feels,  
> licking icicles and leaving our belongings on trains.  
> Telling each other stories, explaining genetics  
> to babies and laughing when it looks like they’re listening.  
> That’s humanity. That’s what I want to answer  
> when people demand: what is the point in anything?  
> There’s no point, but see—we made velvet and  
> we gave mountains names. We saw crashing oceans,  
> we saw the vast emptiness of space and we thought:  
> what’s in there? What’s over there? How can I get across?  
> There’s no point; and that’s the beauty of it.  
> No point and we’ve still got poetry.  
> No point and we’ve still got stars.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**The Old Forest, T.A. 2941**

Once upon a time, Goldberry had been sitting in the pool she called home, the quiet place in the river that filled with water lilies in May and lasted until the first frost. She liked it there, this place the river had called her to, when the time had come to leave her mother's house. She sat in the rushes, listening to the lark, when the faint voice of a man singing something silly about the Withywindle had broken her concentration. She had listened carefully as the voice grew louder. He did not sound like the other men, the Second Born of the village downstream.

That had been the beginning of everything. For a while, he had visited, brought her gifts from the lands faraway where he visited. Then, he had offered her his hand and led her to a cabin. It lay in abandon, but for years, they built and rebuilt together, until it was a warm and joyful place. Goldberry found that she did not need permanently live in the water and she loved to cultivate the human comforts that could be had.

Sometimes the women of the village came by, looking for herbs and advice, half scared, half curious. Sometimes other travellers came, by Tom's hand or wandering on their own. Some stayed for a few days, some for their lifetime. Golberry tended to all of them with fascination. So many came with heavy hearts. A few with empty souls. For all, she found solace to offer, and more than solace, a way to wash away their woes and rekindle their hearts. 

With Tom, who shared her love for life, albeit with a different tinge, his joy more raucous, rebellious, loud, she built a home.

Of the many visitors they had, most were of the Second Born. Now and then an elf knocked on the door with a message for Tom, or seeking a night under a roof while travelling between realms. They had had a company of dwarves once, sullen and resisting her charm until Tom brought out the ale and then they had laughed and laughed for the whole of the evening until the barrel ran dry.

So, when one early spring morning, she gazed at the wild, abrupt flowering of her garden, she saw a flash of auburn hair, she did not expect an elf. She walked out, calling out to the woods, "Come in."

At first, the figure stilled, hiding behind the trees. Their stealth was nearly perfect, including, even, a solicitation of quietness to the trees. Goldberry smiled. "I know you're there. If you come in peace, we can offer you a meal."

Tauriel slipped from behind the tree and stood there quietly watching Goldberry, studying her, appraising her surroundings. Goldberry appraised her in turn. Sadness, so much sadness. There was something missing from the elf's heart. With a gesture, she invited her in.

"I have just baked," Goldberry said, turning her back to the fully armed stranger. She sensed no evil about Tauriel, except her sadness. "We have wild honey."

She walked inside, knowing that Tauriel had already started following her.

And this was how it started. Tauriel stayed for lunch. Then Tom came in and made sure she stayed for dinner too and for the night. Goldberry softly extended her glow but Tauriel, although polite, did not let the warmth penetrate her. Yet, when the morning came and Tauriel woke to the smell of fresh bread, she did not take a loaf for the road. Instead, she accepted Goldberry's invitation to stay for a few days. Days turned in to weeks, weeks into months and summer came.

Lying in the tall grass, enjoying the heat of the summer sun, Goldberry thought of her friend. Tauriel was strong and practical, whereas Goldberry was soft and carefree. A dreamer, Tauriel called her. Goldberry smiled. She was. She had never wanted to grow her power, as her mother had told her too. She had a gift, and that gift was perfectly honed. That enough for her. Tauriel was the same, really, although she would have laughed if Goldberry had ventured the comparison. But Tauriel had a gift for war, for defence of the land, which was also sufficed her and was all that she had wanted to perfect. But now Tauriel was an outcast, with no land to protect. And Goldberry was a healer of the heart facing someone who did not want to be healed.

When Tauriel went hunting, often Goldberry talked with Tom about their guest, their friend. But Tom just said, 'Let her be. She will come to us."

Fall came and Tauriel said something about overextending her welcome. Tom promptly told her that it made no sense to leave now that the weather was cooling so fast and the dark falling so early. He did not have to waste too much breath to convince Tauriel, and Goldberry smiled.

* * *

The first snow fell just before Yule. Tom was out, searching for a tree to bring home and decorate, a custom he had learned with the village men, many years ago before the war had undone ancient Cardolan. Goldberry mulled some wine and settled herself by the fireplace, handing Tauriel a cup.

She smiled. "So lovely," she said.

Tauriel looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Everything, really. But right now, this moment here, two friends, a lovely fire, a warm drink."

Tauriel gave a brittle smile. "So you keep telling me."

"I feel that you once felt thus too, as it is in the nature of your species."

Tauriel averted her eyes. "But now I don’t."

"Sadness eats you and you let it. Why?"

"Stop trying."

Goldberry rose and walked to the kitchen. She brought a plate of oat cakes with her and offered one to Tauriel.

"Stop being stubborn. What good does this do for you?"

Tauriel sighed. Goldberry had started this conversation many times before and had endured Tauriel's rebuffs. She did not expect anything different this time, but Tauriel surprised her.

"If I acccept your gift and lighten my heart, I fear that he will be forgotten. That this will cheapen what we felt and what we lived. Besides, what is the point? All we do and all we try, it all ends up in death and oblivion."

Goldberry savoured her oat cake, rolling it in her mouth. Did she know sorrow? Could she be really so arrogant as to propose answers in a matter foreign to her very nature? But yes, she had had a few sorrows. Leaving her home, her mother's bosom. Fíriel, the friend who had chosen death. The defiling of her pool with corpses, children and women she had known and esteemed, during the awful, horrific war. The months with Tauriel had made her question, consider, if her attachment to joy was callous, selfish, narrowminded.

But she could not abide by sorrow.

"Do you think that, if your heart is lighter, his memory will be faded?" she asked. Tauriel had told her the story of the dwarf man she had loved.

"I don't know."

"Do you think he would like to see you thus?"

Tauriel sighed. "You are relentless."

Goldberry tried to smile but it would not come. She had to pause, to breathe, and to remind to herself who she was.

"I know you have declined this not for the first time. I do not wish to mar our friendship by disrespecting your wishes. Tom and I will love you and welcome you for as long as you want to stay with us. But in answer to what you asked, about death and oblivion."

She took Tauriel by the hand and gently conducted her to the door. When they opened it, the cold winter air hit them, penetrating their clothes. Goldberry closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. 

"The fire, the wine, the cold, the flowers that are to come in spring, the summer sun, the flowing water. Friends, lovers, music, music that my Tom sings off key and music that you hum under your breath when you forget your grief for a moment. Stars. The moon, the clouds. Family, faraway and close by. You are right: there’s no point; and that’s the beauty of it. No point and we’ve still got poetry. No point and we’ve still got stars."

She opened her eyes and looked at her friend. She had not used her charm, had only spoken from the heart, but a single tear trailed down Tauriel's cheek. Their hands linked, warm and strong.

"I do not know if you are right," Tauriel said. "It is hard to say yes. But 'yes'."

Goldberry's eyes stung, her heart swelled with love, and all her joy flowed out of her, surrounding them in a warm golden glow.

Tauriel's face contracted, as if pained, but after a few moments she smiled.

"Thank you," she said, depositing a kiss on Goldberry's cheek. "Thank you."

Finis  
April 2017


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